A Liver and a Fighter

A manner of weeks ago I had my ultrasound, which if you haven’t had one is just a weird experience. It’s only painful if your tech forgets that she’s pressing the sensor into your cirrhotic swollen liver, shoving it against your ribcage. Or maybe something similar, like they used cold gel or something. After this lovely stay at the Women’s imaging center I then had my first MRI….which would soon be followed by my second MRI. Apparently I didn’t score so well on the contrast part of the compare/contrast section on the first test, so they let me study for a week (so nice of them) and then I took the test again. The second one was important because it more than made up for the first test, as the contrast went just right. The results of the test would tell me if after this year of hell, I would have plan for the reality of liver cancer.

This would not be a happy result, definitely going to give that a D-, it’s not an F because as long as it’s isolated it’s not a total death sentence.

So flash forward *wooshing sounds* to today. I received a call from my doctor’s office at an unusually reasonable time, and this was the message: “Your MRI results came out clean.” Which means my liver is just scarred and really, really screwed up….but I already knew that, so woohoo! I’m certain with my medical history cancer and I will have our fight someday… but it is not today, and for that I sleep a little easier tonight.